


Lost Love Found

by alynwa



Series: Song Stories [28]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/pseuds/alynwa
Summary: This story takes place after the events in my tales, “The Moon and Memories,” and “Lost Love,” though this can be read as a stand-alone story.  My original idea was to use “The Show Must Go On” as the prompt, but “Who Wants to Live Forever” insisted on insinuating itself into the story, so both songs are the inspiration.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The prompts are Queen's "The Show Must Go On" and "Who Wants to Live Forever." Lyrics follow the story.

Illya and Napoleon were sitting in their offices working their way through a pile of paperwork; the bulk of which was the CEA’s, but as usual, he had managed to push off half of it to his partner outright and had sneakily increased Illya’s workload to about two – thirds of the total amount.

“I do not understand, Napoleon. Everytime I have reduced my share, it magically grows again. What do you think accounts for that? Do you think the reports have learned how to reproduce? Or, as I suspect, is there a far more realistic reason I have not been able to make a dent?”

Napoleon smiled as he signed off on the last piece of paper in his In box. “Stop your complaining, Tovarisch. When I finally got Mr. Waverly to agree to make you Second in Command of Section II, I assured him that I would familiarize you with every aspect of the Chief Enforcement Agent position. It’s not all glitz and glamour, you know. If I go to that Great Spy Zone in the Sky, the show must go on.”

“I _know_ ,” the Russian grumbled, “First of all, do not make jokes like that. Second of all, this paperwork…”

“Is making you hungry,” interjected Napoleon, “Am I right?”

“Yes, but that is not what I was going to say. You are always deciding…everything. You are very annoying sometimes, Napoleon.”

Napoleon had rolled down his sleeves and put on his jacket. Tossing Illya’s to him he replied, “C’mon, let your annoying senior agent by two years slash CEA slash partner treat you to lunch.”

The two men entered the Commissary and got on line. Illya was still a bit miffed about getting stuck with the bulk of Napoleon’s work and decided to take it out on his wallet. Two shrimp salad heroes, a large bowl of tomato soup, a tossed salad, a slice of chocolate cake and two large bottles of lemonade later, he stood behind his partner at the register.

“Good lord, man!” Napoleon exclaimed as he handed bills to the cashier who was trying not to laugh, “I got roast beef on a Kaiser, fries and a Coke! Are you really going to eat all that?”

“As you said yourself, Napoleon,” Illya retorted as he led the way to a table, “paperwork makes me very hungry.”

The two men ate in silence for awhile as Napoleon was also hungry. He polished off his French fries, swallowed more soda and then finished his sandwich. He watched as his deceptively skinny partner continued to plow through his meal with a singlemindedness that he was used to, but others sometimes found disturbing. “Remember when you told me about your lost love, Anya?”

The blond’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Of course. Why do you bring it up now?”

“I’m curious.”

“Why, Napoleon? Why can you not let things go?”

“I’m a _spy_ ; curiosity is in my DNA, just like it’s in yours. Harry Beldon, fool that he was and traitor that he turned out to be, said you could use our resources to find her. I know you said you decided not to, but I find it hard to believe your curiosity never got the better of you.”

Illya ate the last of his dessert quietly. He licked the icing off his fork and sighed. _I might as well tell him, I will not have peace otherwise._ “There were times when I did think I should attempt to find her; I started to several times, but something always stopped me.”

“What was it?”

“Harry himself. Rule Number One of espionage: Trust no one. And I _never_ trusted him. The less he knew of my past, the better.”

“And what stops you now? Anya had to know her removal from your life wasn’t your doing or plan. We’re talking what? Seven, eight years ago? Maybe she’s waiting for you somewhere.”

As Illya stood with his tray he snorted, “For someone who is a spy, you are a hopeless romantic. Who waits forever for something that in all probability will not happen? We had our time, our one sweet moment, as it were. The decision to separate was made for us and we just had to accept it.” He turned to take his tray over to the dirty area.

Napoleon followed with his. _Nobody said_ I _have to accept it._


	2. Chapter 2

The two men left the Commissary. “Napoleon, I will finish ‘my’ paperwork later, I have something that needs my attention in the Lab. Unless, of course, it needs to be done quickly. You know where it is if you wish to do it.”

“No, no, no. It can wait until you get back to the office. The Old Man doesn’t need that particular batch until tomorrow morning.”

“I find it absolutely astonishing how important reports suddenly become less important when I am not available to do them.”

“Snarky Russian! I have things to do, too. I’ll see you later.”

Napoleon picked up his phone as soon as he entered the office and dialed George Dennell’s extension. “Hi, it’s Napoleon. I need a favor. I want you to find someone for me. A woman…”

“Um, we’re not that kind of service…”

“Haha. I have to tell you, George, that I don’t have a lot of information for you to go on. The woman’s name is Anya. Approximately eight years ago, she was a waitress in a restaurant in Vladivostok in the USSR that was frequented by members of the Russian Navy’s submarine service. Dark haired, dark eyed, I’m guessing about five foot six. She is probably between the ages of twenty – eight to thirty years old now. The KGB sent her away. I think.” Napoleon could hear the sound of George’s pencil taking notes.

“You _think?_  Not a lot to go on at all. When do you need this information?”

“Yesterday.”

“Napoleon!”

“ASAP, then. Don’t you have some friends in the CIA or something?”

“Definitely ‘or something.’ George went silent for a moment and the CEA could almost swear he could hear the gears of Dennell’s mind turning. “Listen, I have just the person for the job. I’ll put her on it. If anyone can do this quickly, she can. I’ll get back to you later on this afternoon with an update.”

Napoleon smiled broadly. “I knew I could count on you, George! One other thing: Don’t tell _anyone_ about this task. Discretion is key.”

“My lips are sealed.”

Illya had returned from the Lab and was diligently, though disgruntledly, completing the CEA reports while Napoleon was marking time by re – reading Mission Reports from the Los Angeles office. When his phone rang, he picked up the handset as he spun his chair so that he was facing the wall. “Yes?”

“It’s George. I believe I have what you want. Do you want me to come to your office?”

“No, I’ll be there in a few moments. Thank you.” He spun back around, hung up and then stood and reached for his jacket. “My presence has been requested at an impromptu meeting. What time were you planning on leaving for the day?”

Illya looked ruefully at his desk. “It would appear that I have at least another forty – five minutes of work left.”

“Good. Idle hands and all that. Listen, don’t leave until I come back, all right?”

“I would not dream of it,” the Russian replied snidely, “You do know that you owe me more than just the lunch you bought?”

“I know, I know,” Napoleon replied as he walked out the door and headed to Section IV. _I’m hoping I really have good news for you, moy droog._

When he arrived at George’s office, he was ushered in immediately by Dennell’s secretary. When he was seated she asked, “May I bring you gentlemen some coffee?”

At Napoleon’s headshake, George replied, “No, thanks, Jeannie, just hold my calls until Mr. Solo leaves.”

The CEA turned and watched appreciatively at Jeannie exited and closed the door behind her. “I need to come down here more often,” he mused aloud before facing George. “You were able to find something for me?”

George smiled as he handed over a large manila envelope. “Oh, yes. My resources and staff are quite good, but even I was shocked at how quickly this all came together. Maybe some of it can be attributed to the famous Solo Luck. As it turns out, there were only three restaurants in Vladivostok during the timeframe you gave me that had Navy clientele. Two of them have since closed, but the third one is where this Anya worked. Fortunately, the owner remembered her because her last name, Buryakova, is an uncommon one. He also remembered the KGB had something to do with her leaving so he wasn’t forthcoming after that. No matter. We were able to track her down to where she is right now. It’s all there.”

As George was speaking, Napoleon had pulled the envelope’s contents out and was perusing them. When he saw her address, his eyes widened and a smile grew on his face. “George, this is perfect! The next time we go out for drinks, they’re all on me!   I’ll see you later, thanks again!”

As he hurried back to his office he was thinking, _Illya is either going to kill me outright or be very happy I did this for him._

Illya was just putting the finishing touches on the last report when Napoleon returned. “Thank you for not making me wait for you. I am ready to go home.”

Napoleon put his hand on his partner’s shoulder to keep him in his chair. “Just a minute, Illya, I want to talk to you.” He went to his desk and sat. Now that he had the blond’s attention, he wasn’t quite sure how to begin. “Ah, ah, I’ve done something for you…”

“ _For_ me? What did you do?” He was stunned to see Napoleon’s face flush. “Napoleon, what did you do?”

“Well, I was thinking about you and Anya and how you two were separated years ago…” He could see the storm rising in the Russian’s eyes and began to speak faster. “Anyway, I asked George Dennell to track her down and he did and she’s _here,_ Illya! In America, in New York, in Brighton Beach!”

The string of Russian curses, epithets and name – calling he had formed died in Illya’s throat when Napoleon’s words sank into his consciousness. “Anya? Is _here_? How is that even possible?”

“Well, as near as George’s sources could tell, the KGB only told Anya the best thing for her would be to stay away from you. There was no detention, no Siberia; just a very stern warning that she took to heart. So much so, that she left Vladivostok and eventually found her way to Brooklyn.” He gave Illya the envelope George had given him. “It’s all in there, Illya: Her address, even her phone number. She’s still single, too.”

Illya hadn’t even realized that he had stood when Napoleon had started talking, but now he slumped onto his desk. His mind was a swirl of emotions; anger, happiness, shock, sadness. “Why are you telling me this, Napoleon?” he asked quietly. “It is not like I can declare my love and ask her to marry me. Did you do this to hurt me? Why would you _do_ this?”

“Illya, I swear to you that I would never do anything to deliberately hurt you. I did this because I know what it’s like to lose someone you truly love when you weren’t able to say goodbye. Brianna walked out our apartment door to go food shopping and that was the last time I saw her alive. My last words to her were, ‘Don’t forget to pick up toilet paper.’ I would give _anything_ to have the chance you have now. A chance to say a proper goodbye, to have closure.”

“You assume too much, Napoleon. What is done is done. I do not need closure.”

“Well, maybe _Anya_ does.” The CEA stood and put on his coat. “It’s late and I want to go home. You do what you want. Maybe I do assume too much, moy droog, but what I did, I did because I care about you. So, sue me.”    

 


	3. Chapter 3

The following Saturday found Illya on Ocean Parkway in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn across the street from the address that was in the envelope Napoleon had given him. There he stood on a cold New York City morning, frozen not by the temperature, but by his own indecision.

Ever since Napoleon had told him about Anya and given him the information, all he had done was think about her. Every time he thought he had made up his mind not to contact her, he would think of a reason to do so. Every time he decided he would contact her, another reason not to would rear its head.  

Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and started to walk. _Napoleon is such an optimist; he really thought this was a good idea. This is just another failed romance._

From behind him, a voice he thought he’d never hear again screamed his name. _“Illya! Illya, wait!”_ He turned around to see Anya, _his_ Anya, running across the street wearing nothing but slippers and a bathrobe. He began to jog towards her and she threw her arms around him as they met on the island that divided the road. “I knew it was you,” she cried, “I would recognize your hair anywhere! Oh, Illya! Where did you come from? How did you find me? Why were you leaving?”

 _Bozhe moy, she feels so good in my arms!_ Tears were standing in his eyes, but he brushed them away quickly before he put a smile on his face and held her at arms’ length to look at her. “Anya, you are just as beautiful as ever. And just as crazy! It’s ten degrees out here!”

She grabbed his hand and led the way back to her building. When they entered her apartment, Illya body relaxed into the warmth of it. “Take off your coat, Illya. Sit. Sit! I’ll make you some tea.”   Her smile was infectious as she ran her hands through her now shoulder length hair. “I thought I was hallucinating when I looked at the window and saw you! When you turned to leave, I had to catch you! I would have run after you if I had been naked!”

“I am sure that would have scandalized your neighbors,” he observed with a straight face before breaking into a grin, “I am glad it did not come to that.” He accepted the glass of jam – sweetened tea she offered. “Thank you. You are as gracious as ever. And as beautiful.”

She blushed deeply. “I am so glad you are here. How did you find me?”

It was his turn to blush. “I did not, a friend of mine decided he knew what was best for me and looked for you. I had no idea you were still alive, let alone in Brighton Beach.”

She sat beside him on the couch. “Shortly after your leave ended, a KGB officer came to see me at home. He informed me that my relationship with you was finished and that if I knew what was good for me and my family, I would not be in Vladivostok the next time your submarine docked, so I left.”

“I am so sorry, Anya.”

“Do not be, Illyusha. I have made a good life for myself here. My only regret was that I did not have a chance to say goodbye.” She turned toward him. “The reason you started to leave is because there is no time for us in your life, yes?”

“Da.”

As she put her arms around him, her robe fell open to reveal her nakedness. “This time, my love, we will have a proper goodbye.”

It was going past five PM and Napoleon was flipping through his little black book when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“It is I. Are you on your way out? I would like to stop by.”

“Sure, Illya, come on over; I’m staying in tonight. I’ll make us something to eat.”

“I will bring drinks.”

Forty minutes later, Illya’s coded knock sounded on Napoleon’s front door. He opened it to reveal his partner standing there with a bag containing scotch and vodka. They fixed themselves drinks and ate the ham and cheese sandwiches he made for them.

“I am surprised you do not have a date, Napoleon.”

“There’s a fight being televised tonight I want to see so I was looking to make a brunch date for tomorrow. There’s a tip for you, Tovarisch: Women enjoy brunch. Brunch says to them that I want to be in their company and don’t necessarily expect sex.” He winked. “It’s a great way to get sex.”

The Russian rolled his eyes. “I will strive to remember that. I went to see Anya this morning.”

“Good for you, Illya! So? What happened?”

Illya smiled. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

Napoleon’s brow furrowed. “What? Yeah, why?”

“You might wish to write this down as it is something you do not hear me say very often in our downtime: You were right. Anya needed closure and I…I guess I did, too. We got to say the things we did not have a chance to all those years ago. We can both go forward now. What was it you said the other day? The show must go on? It does and it can and it will now. I realized that though we are not together, Anya and I, we can love forever. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Of course it does. Clara and I love each other and I don’t really see that changing, so yes, moy brat, it makes plenty of sense.” He raised his glass. “A toast: To Anya, Brianna and Clara. Our lives are brighter because of our memories of them.”

They drained their glasses. Illya refilled his and said, “Thank you, Napoleon.”

“For what?”

“For being annoying, for thinking you know what is best for me, for ignoring my wishes sometimes, for being _you._ You are the best friend I never asked for, but am so grateful to have.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: We have each other.”

Illya grinned. “Apparently, forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> "Who Wants To Live Forever"
> 
>  
> 
> There's no time for us,  
>  There's no place for us,  
>  What is this thing that builds our dreams, yet slips away from us.
> 
> Who wants to live forever,  
>  Who wants to live forever.....?  
>  There's no chance for us,  
>  It's all decided for us,  
>  This world has only one sweet moment set aside for us.
> 
> Who wants to live forever,  
>  Who dares to love forever,  
>  When love must die.
> 
> But touch my tears with your lips,  
>  Touch my world with your fingertips,  
>  And we can have forever,  
>  And we can love forever,  
>  Forever is our today,  
>  Who wants to live forever,  
>  Who wants to live forever,  
>  Forever is our today,  
>  Who waits forever anyway? 
> 
> "The Show Must Go On"
> 
>  
> 
> Empty spaces - what are we living for  
>  Abandoned places - I guess we know the score  
>  On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for...  
>  Another hero, another mindless crime  
>  Behind the curtain, in the pantomime  
>  Hold the line, does anybody want to take it anymore  
>  The show must go on,  
>  The show must go on  
>  Inside my heart is breaking  
>  My make-up may be flaking  
>  But my smile still stays on.  
>  Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance  
>  Another heartache, another failed romance  
>  On and on, does anybody know what we are living for?  
>  I guess I'm learning, I must be warmer now  
>  I'll soon be turning, round the corner now  
>  Outside the dawn is breaking  
>  But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free  
>  The show must go on  
>  The show must go on  
>  Inside my heart is breaking  
>  My make-up may be flaking  
>  But my smile still stays on  
>  My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies  
>  Fairytales of yesterday will grow but never die  
>  I can fly - my friends  
>  The show must go on  
>  The show must go on  
>  I'll face it with a grin  
>  I'm never giving in  
>  On - with the show -  
>  I'll top the bill, I'll overkill  
>  I have to find the will to carry on  
>  On with the -  
>  On with the show -  
>  The show must go on...


End file.
